


Five times Andrés had to kick men out of Martín's room and one time he didn't

by HistoireEternelle



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Happy Ending, I hate hurting Martín but Andrés is here for him, Jealous Andrés, M/M, Not Beta Read, Physical Abuse, Possessive Andrés, Probably ooc, Tumblr Prompt, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25182277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoireEternelle/pseuds/HistoireEternelle
Summary: Andrés didn't even have to think about it anymore. It had become a habit. He would meet the man, find him lacking and wait until it was time to kick him out.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 20
Kudos: 178





	Five times Andrés had to kick men out of Martín's room and one time he didn't

**Author's Note:**

> Anon prompted: What about some jealous and possessive Andres? Who is mean and rude (behind Martin's back) to every new guy Martin dares to introduce to him. He often throws them out even before Martin wakes up, causing Martin wonder what's wrong with him.
> 
> I tried my hand at the 5+1 thingy. I hope it hadn't been done before. If so I'm sorry, I swear it wasn't intentional.

The first time it happened, it hadn’t been something he had been prepared for. Andrés just didn’t like to see his home invaded by strangers. He never brought girls Martín hadn’t been introduced to home and he expected the same courtesy. So when he woke up to a half naked man he didn’t know sitting in his kitchen and drinking coffee, he saw red.

“Who are you?” he snapped, starling the man into spilling his coffee. 

“I’m… Who _are_ you?” the man retorted obviously over his surprise.

“I’m the owner of this place, so if you’d be kind enough to leave now so I can enjoy my breakfast in peace, it would be nice,” Andrés replied in his sweetest voice.

“But Martín…”

“Yes, make sure not to wake Martín up when you go and take your clothes,” Andrés added before leaving the room. 

He would have to talk to Martín about establishing a new rule in their household. Andrés finally got back to the kitchen when he heard the front door close behind whatever-his-name-was. At least the man wasn’t a pig, he thought eyeing the cup in the sink. Pushing the unwelcome experience of having to kick Martín’s last conquest out of their home from his mind, Andrés started on his breakfast.

He was just sitting at the breakfast table when Martín stumbled into the room. He was wearing his open robe over white boxers and nothing else.

“Hey, have you seen Roberto?” he asked his voice gravely, lips bruised by last night activities. Andrés found the sight oddly fascinating and repugnant at the same time.

“We have to talk about that, but first go get dressed, I’ll get you something to eat.”

Martín stood frozen for a few seconds at the tone of Andrés’ voice. He had never heard him sound like that. Not when he was talking to him at least. Turning without a word, Martín went and did as told before coming back to a full plate and a cup of steaming coffee waiting for him.

“You can’t bring strangers to the house, Martín,” Andrés said as if he was talking to a child.

“Why not? You bring women all the time,” Martín replied sternly, not liking the way the conversation was going. 

“And you’ve met them all before I brought them here. So by definition, they’re not strangers anymore,” Andrés explained condescendingly.

“Fine. Next time I want to fuck someone I’ll make sure you have time to run a background check,” Martín spat before leaving the room.

Andrés sighed at his reaction. He loved the man, he was his best friend after all and they’d been living together for years, but sometimes, Martín could be really immature. 

*****

The second time it happened, Andrés started to question Martín’s sanity. Oh of course Martín had bent to his rule and Andrés had met the man before Martín took him home. His name was Stephen this time. A gorgeous Canadian doing a road trip through Europe on his bike. Andrés had hated him at first sight. There had been something off with this man, something that sent every alarm in his mind going wild.

So he had made everything in his power to chase the guy away during the evening they spent at the bar, but it hadn’t been enough. Nothing had worked. Not the harsh words when Martín went to the bathroom. Not the barely veiled threats when Martín went to dance. Not even the possessiveness he had uncharacteristically shown when Martín came back for a drink.

And of course, Stephen had come back home with them. The man had made sure Andrés wouldn’t have more than a few seconds alone with Martín, so he couldn’t voice his concerns. Not that it would have made a difference. Martín was still pissed about the rule and was doing everything he could to get even with Andrés. Even if it took bringing that scumbag back home.

That night Andrés hadn’t even had to wait until morning to kick the man out. He hadn’t been able to sleep, his brain trying to shut out the noises he could hear coming from Martín’s room when he suddenly heard a cry of pain. Jumping out of his bed, Andrés was at his bedroom door before even realizing he had moved but he stopped and waited. He didn’t want to barge in and interrupt if it was part of their lovemaking. But when he heard another cry and a loud thud, he didn’t think, he marched to Martín’s room and kicked the door open to find Martín on the floor in his underwear with a bloody lip. 

Andrés didn’t even take the time to ask what happened. The Canadian was still kneeling on the bed, his cock fully erected and glistening from Martín’s saliva when Andrés bounced on him, grabbing him by his hair and pulled him off the bed.

“Fuck off!” Stephen barked, trying to push Andrés away.

Andrés didn’t reply and pulled at his hair again, trying to dodge the punches the man was throwing at him. The struggle turned into a full fledged fight when the man managed to land a hit on Andrés’ cheekbone. Rolling around on the floor, Andrés finally managed to get the upper hand and straddled the man's hips, his knee pressing painfully into the man’s groin.

“Now you’re going to get up, take your clothes and leave. And you will never set eyes on him ever again. If I have the fleeting suspicion you’re thinking about him, I’ll hunt you down and kill you. Slowly,” Andrés said in a murderously calm voice. “Understood?”

He waited for the man to nod before getting up, freeing the man from his weight. Not giving him another glance, Andrés went to Martín and helped him up. He could hear Stephen leave the place when he helped Martín into his robe and lead him to the bathroom to take care of his busted lip.

“I’m sorry,” Martín choked, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you hear me. It’s _not_ your fault” Andrés reassured him, his face cupped into his hands, drying the tears with his thumbs before kissing Martín’s forehead.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Martín said in a so small and shameful voice that Andrés felt his heart break at the sound.

“Come on.” He led him to his own room and let him sleep cuddled against his body that night.

****

The third time it happened, it was because Andrés was pissed and he didn’t even know why. He had met the man and found him nice and respectful. They had spent a great evening out and the three of them came back home for one last drink. He hadn’t even tried to scare him off. After what happened with the Canadian Jerk, as he liked to call him, Martín needed someone to remind him that not everybody was going to hurt him. When they went to Martín’s room, Andrés had retired to his own room but sleep eluded him. He was anxious. What if he had misjudged the man and Martín was being hurt again? Even the soft moans of pleasure coming from his friend’s room couldn’t reassure him enough to let his guard down. But when everything finally went silent, Andrés let sleep take him, knowing his best friend was safe.

He didn’t know what made him snap. Maybe it was because Simon had been around for a week. Or maybe because he was jealous that Martín had found someone else to spend time with. But Andrés started to be mean and petty with Simon every time the two of them were alone. And when Martín was with them, Andrés couldn’t take his hands off his friend. Be it a hand on his shoulder, his fingers grazing the small of his back when he would walk behind him. His hand taking Martín’s when he wanted to show him something. And every time he did it, he made sure Simon could see.

He knew Martín and Simon had talked about him and his strange behaviors, Martín reassuring who could almost be called his boyfriend that no, Andrés wasn’t interested in him, that he was straight and liked women very much. But still, Andrés could see Simon’s eyes following him and trying to solve the puzzle that was Andrés’ behaviors with Martín. To be honest, Andrés didn’t even know himself why he was acting like that. But he didn’t like to be put aside by Martín and would do whatever it took to get rid of Simon and get his friend back.

It had taken a shove against a wall and a half lie to get rid of him.

The man had confronted him when they crossed paths in the kitchen in the middle of the night. Asking what he was playing at if he was so not interested in Martín as he claimed not to be. Andrés had shoved him against the wall, his fingers around his throat, not squeezing but a threatening presence to remind the man who was in charge.

“Martín is mine, understood?” Andrés growled. 

It wasn’t a lie per se, Martín was indeed his best friend but the way it was said could be interpreted differently as he had meant the words to be. Nodding his understanding, Simon had pushed against his hand and Andrés had let him go. He wasn’t a bad man, just not good enough for Martín.

Simon was gone when Andrés woke up the next morning. He had felt kind of shameful when Martín had realized that Simon wouldn't come back and asked what was wrong with him and why everybody was leaving him. But under the pretense of soothing Martín, Andrés had basked into the attention his best friend was showing him. He had Martín back and it was the only thing mattering right now. 

****

The fourth time it happened, Andrés hadn’t even thought about it. It had become a habit by now. He would meet the man, find him lacking and wait until it was time to kick him out. He would never forbid Martín to meet with other men, he had no rights to do so. Even if he had said numerous times that Martín was his, it wasn’t the truth. Martín was his own man and as long as he followed the rule, Andrés couldn’t say a single thing. But it didn’t stop him from taking care of those men in the morning. He was glad Martín was such a heavy sleeper or he would have been discovered sooner and he wasn’t ready to have that conversation with Martín any time soon. He didn’t even know why he was doing it so he couldn’t think of a single thing he could say to justify his behaviors.

This time the man had been getting out of the bathroom when Andrés found him. He hadn’t exactly been looking for him but his head snuck into Martín’s room had confirmed he was alone in his bed and the kitchen had been empty. He had hoped the man had left by himself but no such luck as it turned out. It had been fast and easy. A few pointed words implying that Martín was not as single as he might think and a dark glare had been enough to scare the man off. He had been quite young, not the type of men Martín would usually go for, but it had meant he was even easier to make him leave. Andrés suspected that his work had been cut off by the fact that the man had already been showered and dressed when he found him, almost as if he had been about to leave by himself.

When Martín had walked into the kitchen that morning, he hadn’t said a word about the missing man and Andrés had felt somewhat uneasy at that fact. Why didn’t Martín say anything? Did he know what Andrés had been doing all that time? Andrés watched his friend closely, trying to decipher if he had been discovered and Martín was just biding his time before confronting him. But when nothing happened, Andrés relaxed and enjoyed his time alone with Martín.

**** 

The fifth time it happened, Andrés hadn’t been subtle at all. He knew that Martín was somehow suspicious of why every man he had taken back home would leave before he woke up. But that time, Andrés felt it was perfectly justified to kick the man out. It was never a good thing to call on you ex when you were as drunk as Martín had been the previous night. And of course it had been the loophole in his rule that Andrés had hoped Martín wouldn’t think of. As the man was his ex, Andrés already knew him, so he wasn’t a stranger anymore and Martín didn’t have to introduce them. But when Andrés woke up this morning to find Martín and Carlos sipping coffee as if nothing had happened between them, as if Andrés hadn’t had to spend days trying to cheer Martín up after Carlos broke up with him, he snapped. 

“Out.” He didn’t even take time to listen to what Martín was trying to say. “I said _out_ ,” he barked again, his finger pointed to the front door.

And Carlos left, as the coward he was. Andrés supposed he had waited for an opportunity to leave even before Andrés had walked into the room. The scene that followed was one of the most painful of his memories with Martín. Martín had been furious, yelling at him, accusing him of making sure none of his relationships were working because Andrés was a needy selfish bastard who couldn’t spend a single second without someone worshiping the floor he was walking on. And Andrés had felt hurt at the sudden outburst. The words hit too close to home to leave him unscathed and Andrés realized that maybe, he hadn’t been fair with Martín and sabotaging his relationships wasn’t something a good friend would do.

But he couldn’t help the jealousy he felt every time Martín would talk to another man. The longing he felt when, awake at night, he heard the noises coming from his friend’s room. Maybe there was something to look closer at here. So after Martín stormed out of the room, Andrés sat in a chair, coffee in hand and he thought about what he really felt for Martín.

****

  
Andrés was pretty sure Martín did it on purpose this time. The man he had met when he joined them had looked so much like him, Andrés had to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. And the shit eating grin on Martín’s lips when he informed him that the man’s name was André had confirmed that something was afoot. They had spent the evening eyeing each other. None of them really understanding what was going on and how it would turn out. When they got home, Martín and André retired to Martín’s room and Andrés stayed behind, not wanting to hear the sounds they would certainly make very soon. 

He could picture Martín kneeling in front of that man who looked so much like him, his head bobbing in rhythm with the stokes of his tongue on the man’s cock. Andrés could almost feel the tightness of Martín when he would bury himself deep into him, the feeling of skin sliding against skin, the smell of sex and sweat permeating the room, the moans and grunts filling the room with each thrust of this hips. He could picture himself doing all of that and more to Martín in his mind. But it wasn’t him with Martín in his room right now. It was his doppelgänger.

His hand traveling down to his crotch, Andrés felt his own hardness under his palm. He had finally come to term with what he was feeling for Martín. He loved him. Of course he had always loved him, but had never been _in_ love with him. Had never _wanted_ him like that. And that realization hit him like a brick when it happened. How could he have been so blind? But Andrés had been a coward and had feared that changing things between them would destroy their friendship so he had stayed silent, loving his best friend from the shadows and scaring off the men Martín would flirt with or bring back home. He would kick them out in the morning, hoping they would stay a one night stand and not something more serious.

“You know you could have said something.” The man of his thought startled him and Andrés crossed his legs to hide his tented pants. 

“Where is… What’s his name again?” Andrés asked obviously knowing the answer, trying for casual and failing miserably. 

“André. And he left a few minutes ago,” Martín said, leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed, a grin on his lips.

“Poor performance of his. They usually last longer.”

“I wasn’t in the mood after all,” Martín replied, pushing himself from the door to cross the room, his eyes never leaving Andrés’. 

Andrés felt a shiver run down his spine at the predatory gleam in Martín’s eyes.

“What are you…” he started when Martín reached the chair he was sitting in and put his hands on the armrests, effectively caging him in.

“I didn’t want the knock off version. I wanted the real thing,” Martín breathed before leaning down and kissing him fully on the lips. 

It took less than a second for Andrés to respond, opening his mouth at the questing tongue he could feel against his lips. A loud moan rang in the room and Andrés didn’t know who it came from but decided it wasn’t important, burying his fingers into Martín’s hair, pulling him even closer.

“If I have my way, you won’t have to kick anyone else from my room, cariño,” Martín breathed against his lips, eyebrow raised and Andrés felt his cheek burn in embarrassment.

“You knew.” It wasn’t a question so it didn’t need an answer and to make sure he wouldn’t have one, he pulled Martín into another heated kiss.

Martín was right, no need to kick someone out of his bed if Andrés was the one in it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, come and talk to me on Tumblr or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/DidWrites)


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